


The... Prank... War???

by faeryn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Love, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 02:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3158204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeryn/pseuds/faeryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam brings Dean a pie from his favorite shop, Dean suspects foul play. Thus begins a bizarre prank war totally unlike what the boys are used to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The... Prank... War???

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PetraJade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetraJade/gifts).



> This fic was requested by my dear brain twin, PetraJade, since she'd had a rough time and had found a bunch of fics that all had the boys being mean to each other, which so did not help. 
> 
> While this is rather on the late side, here is your requested fic with the Winchesters being nice to each other ^^ 
> 
> No slash in this one, though I guess if you want to read it with Wincest goggles on you're welcome to, even if it wasn't written with that in mind *chuckles*

Sam started the whole mess, of course. It was just like him to go out of his way to swing by Dean’s favorite pie shop on his way back to the bunker, even though it was neither Dean’s birthday nor close by his route. When his little brother stalked into the library and nonchalantly slid the pie box onto the table in front of Dean, he eyed it suspiciously and wondered what the catch was.

“What d’you want, Sammy?” He said, not taking his eyes off the box but not opening the lid either. Whatever delicious pastry was held within those cardboard confines would be irresistible, and he knew the moment he opened that box he’d have a hard time saying no to Sam’s request.

“Nothing, Dean,” Sam rolled his eyes good-naturedly, “I just happened to swing by there. I knew you’d been cooped up doing research for days, and it’s not exactly your favorite pastime, so I figured…” he trailed off and shrugged before continuing on into the kitchen to put away the rest of the groceries he’d picked up. 

Dean sat and stared at the cardboard box, the bakery’s logo neatly printed on the lid proclaiming the name of the shop in beautiful cursive font as if the owner had picked up a pen and signed every box herself. He licked his lips, already practically able to taste the sweet, shortcrust pastry and whatever filling Sam had chosen. The pastry would be perfectly crumbly, just holding it together enough to keep the filling inside but melting in his mouth when he took a bite. Finally, that script was too much for him and he flipped open the box, letting out a quiet noise of happiness as the scent of the pie within assaulted his senses. Pecan. Sam had picked him up pecan pie. Not just a slice, oh no, but a whole entire pecan pie. Dean’s favorite pie. From Dean’s favorite pie shop. There had to be a catch, there just _had_ to be. He had just about decided to push the box away and demand answers from Sam, when the man in question returned from the kitchen with a fork and a beer, putting them both down on the table by Dean and walking away without a comment. 

That was it, Dean’s self-control could only hang on for so long, especially when one of Melodee’s perfect pies was _right there_ in front of him. He snatched up the fork and dug in, moans of sheer joy escaping around every mouthful and washing it down with the light bitterness of the beer was just perfection itself. He’d finished half the pie before he finally sat back, popped the top button on his jeans and sighed happily. Whatever it was Sam was trying to get, he deserved it. That was some _damn_ good pie. 

 

A little over a week later, and Dean was starting to get anxious. The most Sam had asked for was to borrow the Impala one evening to go and catch a movie - some chick flick crap he knew Dean wouldn’t want to see with him - and that was hardly out of the ordinary. Sam borrowed the car all the time, and it wasn’t out of character for him to go and see a movie by himself; there were just times when the brothers needed their own space, and Dean didn’t suspect him of anything out of the ordinary even despite ‘the pie incident,’ as he had started calling it in his head. It was time to take matters into his own hands, he decided. He needed to do something nice for Sam before Sam could ask him for something he wouldn’t be able to refuse, thereby evening the playing field and putting him back on even footing with his brother. 

Dean waited until he was sure that Sam was completely enveloped in the research he was doing for a hunter in Wisconsin; some _regular_ hunters had turned up dead in the woods and the locals were certain that it was the work of a previously debunked legendary beast called a Hodag, so Sam was spending hours trying to work out if it was, indeed, a myth and if so, what could have been the true cause of those hunters deaths. Leaving him to it, Dean slipped out of the bunker and headed to Lebanon, doing his best not to grin with glee at his plan. 

Three hours at the farmer’s market and a hippy organic food store later, and Dean was heading back to the bunker with a trunk full of _environmentally friendly, biodegradable_ paper bags and whistling cheerily along to the tape he’d grabbed at random from the box. To Dean’s relief, Sam wasn’t in the library when he got back, arms full of baggage and hoping against hope that the man wasn’t in the kitchen where Dean was headed. It seemed like for _once_ things were going Dean’s way, and he slid the bags onto the countertop in the empty kitchen with a sigh of relief. He didn’t take any time to catch his breath, though; quickly packing away the things he’d bought and ducking out of the kitchen to toss the paper bags in the recycling bin Sam had _insisted_ on adding to the trash cans tucked away in one of the bunker’s lesser-used rooms. To his extreme pleasure, Sam was still nowhere to be seen, so Dean immediately fled back to the kitchen to get on with making his special surprise for his brother. 

“Holy shit Dean,” Sam breathed, hours later as Dean brought out a veritable feast to the library table where Sam had finally returned to his research.

In his hands Dean carried a tray full of ridiculous healthy food, from a cold quinoa and bell pepper salad to a lean chicken stir-fry topped up with organic vegetables and a sauce Dean had made from low-sodium soy sauce and fresh herbs and spices from the farmer’s market. The pièce de résistance was a fruit tart, naturally sweetened with honey with an almond meal pastry Dean had been surprised to find tasted great. 

“It’s not my birthday,” Sam said quietly as Dean arranged the dished in front of them both, along with two bottles of Sam’s favorite imported beer, “so what’s this all in aid of? What did you do?” He eyed Dean suspiciously as he picked up his fork, not caring too much about the answer. 

“Nothing dude, just felt like trying something different, that’s all.” Dean carefully speared a piece of chicken and a couple of crisp veggies on his fork and waved it at Sam dismissively. “You’re always on my ass about eating more healthily and I figured now’s as good a time as any to try it. I’m not gonna do it all the time, but once in a while’s okay I guess,” he conceded, putting the fork in his mouth and then chewing noisily as he swilled a mouthful of beer around the morsel. “Not bad I guess,” he shrugged. 

Sam fixed him with a concerned gaze as he watched his older brother eat before deciding that the food smelled way too good to ignore and began tucking in to his own plate with enthusiasm. Twenty minutes later Dean was serving them both a slice of fruit tart - his smothered with whipped cream and Sam’s with a dollop of low fat crème fraîche and a drizzle of honey. They leaned back in their chairs to finish eating with satisfied smiles and full bellies. 

Watching Sam eat, Dean felt warm fondness spread in his chest; he’d started this with the intention of getting even with Sam for the pie, but it truly felt good to do something nice for his kid brother, even if said kid brother was taller than him and almost 100% pure muscle. 

 

With that in the back of his mind, Dean began spending more and more time in the garage; he’d already given all the old vehicles stored there a once-over with his critical eye but that was more as an aficionado than with the intention of actually _doing_ anything with the cars. More recently, though, he’d realized that Sam could probably do with a vehicle of his own and, while Dean knew he preferred the tacky plastic modern cars with their ipod jacks and air conditioning, he figured since they had all these cars just _sitting_ here, he might as well do something about that. 

He hadn’t counted on how difficult it would be to find parts for such old cars, and he ended up having to order a lot of them online and have them delivered to a PO Box in Lebanon. Of course, they couldn’t give out the bunker address to just anyone, and mail services definitely counted as ‘just anyone.’ It meant that he spent a lot of time driving back and forth as his parts came in, and long days and nights singing along to the stereo as he tinkered with the engine or touched up the paint job. 

It wasn’t until a whole month had passed and Sam shoved a package across the table at him with a grin as they ate dinner - deliciously unhealthy steaks with fries - that Dean even remembered the pie incident and his subsequent ‘revenge’ with health food. He cocked an eyebrow at Sam as he drew the package toward himself and picked at the paper with one hand, the other still holding his fork.

“You’ve been spending so much time in the garage listening to that old box of tapes,” Sam said, without prompting, “I figured you might wanna branch out a bit. Plus, tapes don’t last forever and they’re old as it is. So…” he trailed off as Dean tore open the paper and his eyes widened at what was inside.

 _The Definitive Rock (and Roll) Collection_ the front of the box proclaimed in big, bold letters. Flipping it open, Dean did a quick mental count and almost choked at the number of cassette tapes crammed into a surprisingly small parcel. There were no less than a hundred tapes, neatly labelled in Sam’s precise hand, containing everything from Aerosmith to Zeppelin. There were bands he already knew and ones he’d never even heard of, alphabetically ordered but with little cards stating helpful information like “ _sounds like Metallica,”_ or _“see: Blue Öyster Cult”_ taped to the perspex cases. 

“Sammy,” he managed, throat closing up against any more words as he thought about how much work it must have taken Sam to put this collection together for him. “This is… this is _awesome_ , thanks.” 

Sam beamed and shrugged, waving away the unspoken praise from his older brother. “It’s no big deal, it was something fun to do between looking at dusty old books all the time,” he chuckled. 

“Seriously man, I love it, thank you.” 

 

And Dean returned to the garage with enthusiasm, determined to make this car the _best_ he could for Sammy. He listened to the tapes in order, cranking up the volume when he found a track he liked and listening patiently through tracks he wasn’t fond of, determined to give each song a chance since Sam had gone to so much trouble to pick them for him. He even spent hours on the internet working out how to set up some more modern additions to the classic car, so Sam could have as many of the comforts afforded by modern cars in his own, vintage, vehicle as possible. These delayed him just a little bit, but within another month he was finally ready to put the finishing polishes on the chrome and give the old girl a nice wax job to make her shine in the dim lights of the bunker. 

Unable to contain himself any longer, after two months of work, Dean sprang up the steps from the garage and sought out Sam, who was sitting in the rec room reading with the TV on in the background.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean called, waiting until his brother looked up from his book to toss the keys at him. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but he was _sure_ Sam wouldn’t be able to top him this time. 

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam frowned as he caught the keys, looking at them with a puzzled expression before looking back up at Dean. 

“Figured it’s about time you got your own damn car, so I fixed up the blue one you took a liking to.” Dean shrugged, trying to play down the amount of work it had taken getting the car back into working condition. 

“ _Dude_ ,” Sam exclaimed, jumping up from his seat and enveloping Dean in a hug before the older man could object.

“It’s no big deal,” Dean grumbled as Sam backed away. 

“It’s a _huge_ deal. What’s with you lately anyway? Making healthy food and fixing up cars for me?” He frowned, suddenly worried. “You’re not dying or planning on ditching me, are you?” 

“What? No! No, no, nothing like that,” Dean looked at Sam with a mixture of horror and amusement on his face and as he looked at Sam he knew the reason was so much simpler than just wanting to get Sam back for his own nice deeds. “Dude, you’re my brother, and things have been really shitty for the last few years. I just figured you deserved something nice for once.” 

Sam looked like he was about to cry and pulled Dean back into another of his enveloping hugs.

“ _Thanks_ , man, I mean it,” he said quietly before pulling away.

Dean only smiled and watched as the moose-like guy who would always be his kid brother dashed off excitedly to check out his new car. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! As always, I can be found on Tumblr! On my [main blog](http://faeryn.tumblr.com) or my [very quiet writing sideblog.](http://faerynfics.tumblr.com)


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